I Was Very Young
by IfIWereANerd
Summary: This began as a MM&Emma one-shot post 2x13 but has expanded into my own take on the events that might take place in Storybrooke throughout the rest of the season, because once a week is too slow for me! Lots of Charming family fluff and Emma's past to come.
1. Chapter 1

Snow darted forward with a huge smile spread across her face as soon as she saw the flash of her daughter's red scarf at the doorway, but she halted herself at the concerned look on Emma's face.

"Emma, what's wrong?" Snow asked her fearful daughter. "What is it?"

"Did you find Gold's son?" David asked.

"Yes we found him," she said absent-mindedly before turning to Snow, her eyes wide. "I need to talk to you."

Snow blinked, her concern growing. "Alright," she said, as Emma straight-lined for her room. Charming cast her a curious glance as she followed, but she could only shrug in response. Once inside, Emma closed the door behind her. Snow dropped onto the bed, but Emma remained standing, pacing before the doorway.

"Emma, what's…?"

"I need to talk to you about something," Emma began, her arms folded in front of her as she paced. She pulled one hand out and began biting that the nail as she spoke. "I need to tell you something, but I need you not to be my Mom right now, ok? I need you to be my best friend for like two seconds, not my Mom. Can you do that?"

Snow thought this could get quite complicated. She wasn't sure she could just turn the maternal instinct off, but she was so intrigued and concerned by Emma's demeanor that she nodded.

"Ok," she agreed.

"We found Mr. Gold's son," she started.

"Well that's good, I guess, isn't it?" Snow asked.

"I've met him before," Emma said.

"Really?" Snow said, raising her eyebrows. When Emma seemed a bit at loss for how to continue, she prodded gently, "in a saw him once on the street kind of way…?"

"In a 'he knocked me up and skipped town and got me sent to jail for a bunch of watches he stole' kind of way," she said in one big breath.

For a moment, Snow was speechless. Her jaw dropped and she and her daughter locked eyes.

"He what?" she stuttered, a rage pulsing inside here.

"Ah, ah!" Emma warned. "You said you were in best friend mode, not protective mother mode."

"Right," Snow said, shaking her head and blinking rapidly. "Sorry. It's just…" she looked back at Emma. "He's Henry's father?"

Emma gave her a guilty look as she finally acquiesced to join Snow, sinking next to her on the bed. "I told you his father was no hero."

"Apparently not," Snow breathed. "Looks like that apple didn't fall too far from the tree."

"I guess not," Emma said, flopping backwards so she was lying down on the bed.

"So Henry is the grandchild of Snow White, Cora, and Rumpelstiltskin," Snow breathed in awe. "He's got to be one powerful kid."

"To be fair, there's none of Cora or Regina's blood in him, but still small comfort," Emma said. "Do you think Henry has the ability to use magic as well?"

"I think that if he doesn't now, he will eventually," Snow admitted. "Does he know? That it's his father?"

"Henry? God no, and he didn't even know I was pregnant so he has no reason to think Henry's his anyway. But I didn't even let them meet. As soon as I found out who he was I told Gold that I had fulfilled my end of the bargain and that I was taking Henry and coming home."

"Well I'm glad your back," Snow said, hugging her daughter. "And whatever this means for the future, we will figure it out together."

"Thanks," Emma said, returning the embrace.

When they broke apart, Snow asked, "can I be your mother again now?"

Emma laughed. "Sure," she said.

"Good," Snow said, "because I have a thing or two to teach you on how to choose a man."

Emma laughed again as she stood and walked towards the door. When she reached it, however, she paused for a moment.

"Can you do me a favor?" she asked, turning back around.

"Sure," Snow said.

"Can you not tell David?" Snow looked stunned at the request. "He's just going to get all protective and make trouble and I don't want him doing anything that might tick Gold off and get him, get all of us, into trouble."

"I don't keep secrets from my husband," Snow said.

"Not even your daughter's secrets?" she asked, her eyes wide and guilt-ridden.

"Ok, fine, for you. I won't tell him." Snow smiled at her daughter, which Emma returned before reaching for the door handle. "Emma," Snow started. Emma turned to look at her again. Snow gave her a curious look. "Did you love him?"

Emma swallowed, and Snow thought she saw some emotion pool in her brown eyes, but all said was, "I was very young." Then she slid out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning at Granny's, Snow was still struggling to keep Charming's curiosity at bay.

"What was the matter? Why are she and Henry back early? Why isn't Mr. Gold with them? What did she want to talk to you about?"

Snow was not very good at keeping secrets. She was more one for brutal honesty. Perhaps it had something to do with her stepmother keeping her hatred a secret for nearly ten years before eventually murdering her father and trying to have her killed as well. In any event, as she sat with her husband over coffee, she found a need to find something else to distract his attention from asking questions about what Emma had shared with her the night before.

"You know, I've been thinking…" she began.

"Don't change the subject," he argued.

"…about what you said," Snow persisted. "About missing our home." That caught Charming a bit off guard. He deigned to be silent and leaned forward, intrigued. "And I'm still not sure I want to go back, but I do miss it sometimes."

"We all do," Charming said, comforting her by reaching an arm around her shoulder.

"So why don't we bring a little bit of home to us?" She turned to see Charming's reaction.

"What did you have in mind?"

A large smile spread across Snow's face.

"I want to throw a ball!" she said brightly.

"I'm sorry, a what now?" Emma flopped down in the seat next to them, looking skeptical. If she wasn't looking for signs of stress, Snow might have missed the dark circles around her eyes that meant she had not slept well, but she did and a surge of motherly affection swelled in her for her daughter's struggles. But she shook all that aside.

"A ball!" she repeated. "We used to throw them all the time. The last one we had was for Ella's wedding, and that was ages ago."

"I think it's a great idea," Charming said. "It will really help people who are feeling homesick to have a little taste of home for a night."

"We can make it just like home," Snow said, getting excited. "We can have a live band orchestra and a feast and everyone can wear their ball gowns."

"Yleck!" Emma said, taking a forking and beginning to pick at the leftover home fries on her mother's plate.

"We can throw it in honor of Emma!" Snow suggested brightly, ignoring her daughter's reaction. The two parents turned gleefully to regard their daughter in front of them. Emma froze with the potato halfway to her mouth. She blinked at her parents.

"Me?"

"You always need a reason to throw a ball," Snow said matter-of-factly.

"And you're the perfect person to celebrate," Charming said. "You broke the curse."

"Can't you guys celebrate someone else?" Emma whined. "Dances… balls… aren't really my thing."

Before the Charmings could retort with an argument in their favor, Emma's pager beeped where it sat on the table.

"I'll get it," Charming offered, sliding from the booth. "You finish your breakfast. And you," he said turning to Snow and placing a kiss on her lips, "keep trying to convince her."

"Oh don't worry," Snow said, turning back to Emma and smiling. "I have my ways."

Emma rolled her eyes as she chewed. There was a light ringing of a bell as Charming left the diner.

"Ok, we won't throw it for you, but you at least have to agree to come," Snow said. Emma groaned.

"Seriously?" she said. "Where did this idea even come from, I've never heard you talk about throwing a ball before?"

"Well to be perfectly honest," Snow said, lowering her voice and catching Emma's eye, "it came from me trying to find something to occupy your father's mind and get him off trying to pester out of me what you and I were talking about last night."

"Oh," Emma said. "Right." She looked down at the plate and began pushing the toast crusts around with her fork.

"Speaking of which," Snow continued. "How did you leave things with Gold? Did he tell you when he'd be coming back?"

Emma just shrugged.

"No. For all I know he and Neal – I mean, Bae – could make amends and just end up living in New York together and making up for lost time. Which would be fine by me. Maybe he'll never be back."

When Snow did not respond right away, Emma looked up from her plate. Snow was looking past her shoulder with a glazed stare.

"What?" she said.

"Or maybe he'll be back today," she said, not changing the focus of her glare. Emma mimicked her and saw what she was looking at. Mr. Gold's car had just pulled up next to his pawnshop. Two people were getting out of the car. One was Mr. Gold. The other was his son.

Emma swung back around, her eyes wide, locking them with Snow.


	3. Chapter 3

When Emma saw a crack of blue dawn rising and filling her room with a dull light, she stopped trying to sleep and just got out of bed. She left for work before the clock read 5:30, leaving a note for Henry to stop by the Sherriff's station on his way to school to say good morning.

Once she reached the office, she dropped her bag unceremoniously to the floor beside her desk and began to tackle the mountain of paperwork she had waiting for her. She was glad of the task, as the sky slowly grew brighter, because it gave her mind something simple and mundane to do. How she missed things being simple and mundane. She buried herself in her work so that she jumped slightly when she heard a voice from the doorway.

"I didn't realize there were pressing crimes to be solved so early in the morning in a town like this."

Neal stood sheepishly at the doorway, a bit hesitant to come in.

"What are you doing here, Neal?" Emma asked in a sour tone, swiveling her chair and turning back to her paperwork. Neal stuffed his hands in his pockets, almost bashfully.

"I saw the bug parked outside. I can't believe you still have it."

"It's a good car," Emma shrugged.

"I wanted to talk to you."

"Look, Neal, or Bae, or whatever your name is," Emma started, "you came back to reunite with your father, so maybe that's what you should be doing."

"I only agreed to come back with him so that I could see you and explain," he said a bit urgently, taking his hands from his pockets and stepping further into the office.

"You're Mr. Gold's son," Emma emphasized, not looking up. "No further explanation necessary."

When he had no response, Emma chanced a glance at Neal and was surprised to see the jibe had really hurt him. She came close to retracting it, before she saw the top of Henry's head bobbing down the hallway through the windows.

"Hey Emma, got your note…" he said as he came in. He paused when he saw she had company. He looked the man up and down. "You're Mr. Gold's son, right?"

"My name is Neal," he said, reaching out his hand to shake Henry's.

"That's only one of his names," Emma corrected him, standing from her chair.

"I'm Henry," Henry said, smiling in his kind way and reaching to shake Neal's hand, but before he could Emma had grabbed his hand herself and pulled him a little deeper into the office, flashing a warning look at Neal. "Do you need some lunch money, kid?" she asked, beginning to dig in her pockets.

"No, Mary Margaret made me lunch and left it on the counter," Henry told her, swinging himself up onto her desk.

"Well, that was nice of her," Emma said.

"It's what Grandmother's do," Henry informed her, his short legs swinging back and forth. He was looking at Neal again. "So, what made you decide to come back to Storybrooke with you father, Neal?"

Neal looked as if he was about to respond, but Emma cut him off swiftly.

"You know what, Henry, you better get going or you're going to be late. Do you have everything you need?"

"Yep," Henry said, hopping down from his perch.

"Can I have a hug before I go?"

"Sure!" Henry said enthusiastically, spreading his arms wide. Emma crouched down and squeezed him tight.

"Nice to meet you, Neal," Henry said hurriedly as he darted through the doorway. "Bye Emma!"

"Have a good day at school, kid," she waved after him. Once he had left there was an awkward silence that hung between her and Neal.

"You have a kid?" he asked, turning to her, his eyebrows raised.

"Who said he was my kid?" Emma retorted harshly.

"You're getting him ready for school," Neal pointed out. Emma thought for a moment for an alternate explanation, but failed.

"Ok, yeah, he's my kid," she admitted.

"Why does he call you Emma?"

"Why is it any of your business?" Emma shot at him. Neal looked at the ground.

"It's not. I'm sorry."

"Look, I don't know what your plans are for while you are in town, whether its to reunite with your father or not, but whatever they, please just keep me, and my kid, out of them."

She walked over to the door, though it was already open, as a sign that this was time for him to take his leave. He did not move for a moment, grasping at anything he could think of to say that would make her hear him out, but when that failed, he acquiesced and walked out the door.

Once he was in the hallway, however, he paused and turned back, a strange look on his face.

"About Henry," he started. "How…?"

"Goodbye, Neal," Emma said, closing the door.


	4. Chapter 4

"How did you meet him?" Snow asked her that afternoon over their lunch break at Granny's.

"We stole the same car," she said simply, shrugging and continuing to chew her salad.

"You what?" Snow asked, her eyebrows shooting up her forehead.

"It's not too hard, I can teach you how if you want," Emma said, mopping up some ketchup with a fry. She popped it in her mouth and looked up to see Snow, her mouth agape, staring back at her.

"I was fresh out of the system," Emma said defensively, wiping her hands together so that a few crumbs fell onto her plate. "I didn't have any place to stay and I spent the summer sleeping in the park but then it started to get cold, and the men around started to get too comfortable with the young blonde teen living on the streets, so I needed to find somewhere else to stay."

Snow remembered her first night in the woods, how cold it had been. She had not really ever spoken with Emma about how she had grown up. Back when she was just her best friend, Mary Margaret had been happy to accept the fact that Emma had grown up in the foster system, whatever vague and distant terrors that meant, and that she didn't like to talk much about her past. Now, as her mother, she felt a whole new need to delve into her daughter's upbringing a bit more.

"Why were you living on the street?" Snow asked, trying to keep a light air in her tone, but her voice seeped with a dampness of maternal concern that did not go unnoticed by her daughter. Emma was never one to get into an emotional conversation.

"The point is that I should have known better than to date a guy who I met asleep in a stolen car," she said evasively. "Won't make that mistake twice."

"But why…?" Snow persisted, but Emma cut her off.

"Trust me," she said in a low voice, looking not at her mother but into her coffee, "you do not want to know how I ended up living on the street."

"But I do, Emma," Snow prodded, leaning forward. How could she make her daughter understand how much she wanted to know every little detail she had missed? "I want to know everything about you."

"Yeah, well," Emma sighed, leaning back against the cushion of the booth, "I don't really want to talk about it, so why don't we switch the subject. How's the ball coming along?"

"It's coming along fine, date set for two weeks from now, but nice try," Snow sighed. "My attention is not so easily subverted. Now let's get back to..."

"Who was Graham?" Emma blurted out, her voice low. She took her eyes from the rim of her mug to meet Snow's, who had stopped mid-sentence.

"Emma," Snow started softly, but Emma sensed the condescension in her voice and continued before she could deter her from reiterating the question.

"I know he's gone and I know I – we can't get him back, but still it's really been bugging me, not knowing. Who was he? Back in your land? Which – which character?"

"Do you really want to know," Snow asked, a hesitation lingering sadly in her eyes.

"Yes, I really do," Emma insisted. Snow took a long breath before answering.

"He was the huntsman."

Emma sat in silence for a moment, her eyes locked with her mother, piecing together what she remembered of the stories she had heard as a child. She blinked.

"As in the huntsman who…"

"Regina sent into the woods to kill me," Snow confirmed, her head tilted sympathetically to the side.

"Right," Emma said, her mind still processing.

"He spared my life, Emma," Snow said kindly. "I think he was actually beginning to remember our past lives before he died. He came to me and started talking about how we had known each other in another life."

"He did remember," Emma told her, looking back up at her. "Right before he died, he kissed me and then he said, 'I remember'. And then… Regina killed him." She looked up at Snow. "How?"

"Regina took his heart as punishment for letting me keep mine," Snow said, failing to keep warm pools of water from dampening her eyes. "She must have kept it somewhere here. I'm so sorry, Emma, I know how much you cared about him." Snow reached over the table to grab her daughter's hand, but Emma pulled it away and dug it into her pocket.

"I didn't," she said stubbornly, pulling out a twenty-dollar bill from her pocket and tossing it on the table. She did not meet her mother's eyes. "It was just a fling, that's all. I was just curious. I gotta get back to the station."

Snow watched her daughter turn and walk for the door, and her heart melted a bit. For the pain she had experienced all her life and her inability to accept she had felt it because it was so strong. When Emma got to the door, however, she halted, her hand resting on the knob. She turned back to Snow, and there was a realization forming in her eyes.

"She must have kept it somewhere here," she whispered, repeating what Snow had just said. "That night, we… the graveyard…" She locked eyes with her mother. "I think I know where we can find Regina."


	5. Chapter 5

Mr. God had grown to truly hate the bell on the door to his shop. It always meant trouble. He glanced up to see a pair of stern brown eyes and a flash of long golden hair streaming towards him. Snow trailed behind her, closing the door as she came. Rumpelstiltskin sighed deeply.

"You're becoming quite a Mama's girl," he said. She ignored to jibe as she marched right up to him, leaning menacingly on the counter.

"I need your help."

"I wouldn't have expected you to be so eager to be back in my debt, now that you are finally out of it," Gold sneered. "Did you really enjoy our little excursion that much?"

"I know where we can find Regina," she said, pushing past his attempt to divert her attention. "We need to move fast before Cora gets to her first. Even you couldn't handle the damage those two could to together."

"I think you forget, Ms. Swan," Gold said, leaning on his cane and stepping around from behind the counter, "I trained both of them. I think I can handle whatever they throw at me."

"I may be hard headed, but I'm not stupid," Emma said. "I'm not about to go up against Regina unless I have magic on my side."

"But you do have magic on your side," Gold pointed out, stepping closer to Emma. "Or have you forgotten?"

Snow shifted uncomfortably. Emma showed no signs of intimidation.

"It's not the same and you know it," she argued.

"But it could be the same," Gold said in a low, urgent voice as he began to circle Emma enticingly. Snow drew in a breath of discomfort while Emma followed Gold's movement with her eyes. "I could teach you, if you let me. If you are willing. I can teach you how to harness your power."

"Right," Emma said accusingly, "because you have such a great track record of churning out upstanding pupils."

"Back off, Gold," Snow growled when Mr. Gold continued to bare down on her daughter. Gold slowly turned to look at her.

"Over protective, are we? Well you can't say I didn't offer." He shrugged as he moved towards the door, "now if you don't mind, I happen to be extremely busy…"

Emma, did not follow suit. She stayed firmly where she stood.

"So you're just going to do nothing?" Emma asked aggressively.

"I don't owe you anything," said Gold through gritted teeth.

"Funny," Snow retorted, her eyes narrowing. "I would say you owe her a childhood."

"With twenty-eight years worth of interest, if we are being truly accurate," Emma added. "I'm not stupid enough to go up against Regina on my own. I know where to find her, but I'm not going alone. Are you going to help me, or not?"

"I will help you," Gold acquiesced, and while Snow let out a long breath she had apparently been holding, Emma kept her arms folded and her eyes narrowed, waiting for the catch. "For a price."

Emma scowled further. "What's the price?"

"I want you to tell me," Gold said, pointing the hand that did not hold his cane first at Emma and them at himself, "what exactly is the nature of your relationship with my son?"

Emma glowered at Mr. Gold, her expression impossible to read. The frown lines in her face deepened as she held a terse silence between she and Mr. Gold. Then she took a breath.

"Forget it," she said. She turned and walked out the door, the loud steps from her boots resonating throughout the dank pawnshop. Snow stayed long enough to shoot Rumpelstilstkin an unkind look before she followed her daughter. The wooden door slammed shut with a bang, the bell ringing to signal their exit.


	6. Chapter 6

"Aren't you supposed to be wearing white or something?" Emma said from where she stood sulking behind her mother's half-open doorway. The evening of the ball had arrived, and Storybrooke had been buzzing with excitement for the event. Snow was dressed in a simple strapless ball gown in a soft, subtle hue of blue.

"It's not my wedding," she responded. "I don't always wear white you know, it's just in reference to my skin being so pale." She twisted to check that the back of her dress was flat. She turned to look at Emma and frowned. "You're not dressed?"

"Yeah, you know, I was thinking…" Emma started, sheepishly sliding fully into the room. Snow rolled her eyes. For a moment, Emma looked like an adolescent trying to convince her mother of something. "Maybe you guys should go ahead and I will come later."

When Snow caught Emma's eye, an almost-parental knowing in her face, she added, "…or, you know, not at all."

Snow came forward and took both of Emma's hands, dragging her further into the room and sitting her down on the bed.

"I don't know how to dance," Emma was protesting. "Especially not ballroom dancing. No one ever taught me, and I'll look silly and gangly and awkward, and my feet will hurt because the shoes…"

"Emma," Snow said in a calming voice, silencing her. She looked into her daughter's evasive eyes with a gentle smile. "It's just a dance. It's supposed to be fun. Stop worrying about it. Just come and have fun."

In the end, Emma agreed to make an appearance, although she did send her parents on their way before her, along with her son, who looked very dapper in his tiny tuxedo. They were all ready and Emma said it would not do to have the hosts be late for their own ball. She promised to come along later and slid into her room to get changed.

When she arrived, she slunk in a bit awkwardly at first and watched from beside a pillar at the top of the staircase. It was like she had stepped back in time. The dance floor below her was littered with people she knew from the town, but they were transformed. Ruby had traded in her signature right red shorts for an elegent burgundy dress that hugged her form until just past her hips, where it flowed silkily down to the floor. Ashley was dancing her with her fiancé in a gown of baby pink taffeta. Belle was dancing and laughing with Grumpy in a yellow chiffon dress that fell gracefully off her shoulders. Emma was surprised at the ease with which they all waltz around the dance floor in a dance she couldn't have ever known in her wildest dreams, but it all seemed so second nature to them.

Emma spotted her parents on the dance floor looking blissful. They wove around each other, and the other dancers, coming together every so often to steal a kiss or gaze into each other's eyes. David even made the frilly shirt he wore under his jacket and the ancient dance steps he was doing seem Charming. Emma smiled despite herself as she watched.

When the song ended, the men bowed and the women curtsied to their respective partners, and kindly applauded the orchestra. A few of the women then gathered over a small standing table and raised glasses of Champaign in a toast. Emma almost laughed out loud. It was like a picture out of Disney Land, Never in her life did she think she would see Snow White, Cinderella, Belle and Little Red Riding Hood all standing together in ball gowns, laughing and chatting. She thought back to her time in the enchanted forest, and thought that if Aurora and Mulan could have joined them, this picture would have been complete.

Snow glanced up over the rim of her glass and spotted Emma spying on them from atop the stair. She smiled brightly and motioned for her to come down. As Emma began the staircase descent, the entire ballroom seemed to turn and watch her. Just like a real life fairytale.

Emma wore a simple, flowing gown of pure gold. The halter at the top led into a low V-shaped neckline, which curved around to meet at her lower back. The skirt of the dress dropped from the body in a natural flare. She felt everyone's eyes on her, and it made her extremely uncomfortable. What made it even worse was when they began to applaud, interspersed with shouts of 'Emma!', 'The Savior!', and 'she broke the curse!' Emma thought it was perhaps the longest staircase she had ever descended.

Just before she reached the bottom, out of the corner of her eye she spotted Neal, and he discomfort doubled. He was not applauding, but was looking at her in a familiar way. She shot him a pointed, wary glance before turning away and heading for her parents.

"Well, that wasn't awkward at all," she said as she reached the table and Snow laced her arm with her own.

"I'm glad you came," she whispered.

"Wouldn't miss it," she smiled back.

As the evening progressed, Emma eventually had to dance with her father in order to prove that her protests of being a horrible dancer were not false modesty, but in fact one hundred percent true. She spent most of the time standing or sitting on the sidelines, chatting with fellow town members and always eyeing Neal, who, while he never made to come over and speak with her, was keeping his own careful eye on her as well.

At one point, well into the evening, she looked up and saw that he had moved from where he had been standing. She scanned the room and her heart skipped a beat when she found him, standing by the punch, sipping a clear plastic cup filled with red liquid. Beside him stood her son, nearly half his height. The two were conversing intently. Emma strode over hurriedly.

"Hey, Henry, I think it's getting to be past your bedtime," Emma said pointedly. "Why don't you go find Granny and have her take you home."

"Ok," Henry said. "Nice talking to you, Neal." He waved at the man. "Night, Mom," he said, giving her a quick hug before sauntering off across the dance floor. Emma watched him cross the hall with a light expression on her face, which turned immediately dark as she turned to face Neal.

"Who told you that you could talk to my kid?" Emma asked, her face stern and her arms crossed in front of her.

"It's a free country," Neal retorted lamely.

"Not when it comes to my kid, it's not!" Emma lashed out.

"You look really nice, by the way," he said evasively.

"Oh, real charming," Emma spat, rolling her eyes. "You forget, I know who you are and what you are capable of, so just leave me alone, and stay the hell away from my son."

"He said something interesting," Neal mused, and while Emma wanted to just walk away, she knew that she had to hear what Henry had said. "He told me he was eleven years old."

Emma swallowed hard, wondering how she was going to find away to control that damage. But before she could open her mouth, Snow had swung into the conversation.

"Everything ok?" she asked, casting a sweeping, skeptical glance at Neal before looking pointedly at Emma.

"It's fine," Emma said fiercely, not taking her cold eyes off of Neal. She turned and swept from the conversation towards the doorway.

"Emma-," Neal started, turning to follow her, but Snow caught his arm.

"Leave her alone," she warned him, but he didn't pay her any mind. He wrenched his arm free and continued the pursuit. Charming came up to his wife and handed her a small glass of Champaign, mimicking her glance and watching Neal weave his way through the room towards the door through which Emma had exited.

"What's all that about?" Charming asked light-heartedly, pulling his glass to his lips and taking an elegant sip. When Snow did not respond, he looked down at her. He saw her concerned eyes still on Neal, now nearly out of the ballroom, and he turned towards her. "Snow? What is it?"

Snow looked up at her husband, unable to keep anxiety out of her expression.

"What's wrong?"


	7. Chapter 7

Emma felt Neal on her tail as she was leaving the hall, and her suspicions were confirmed when, as she stood looking into the night from the steps of the town hall, she heard the door open and close behind her.

"Emma," he stared. She did not turn to acknowledge him. She continued walking, down the steps and was about to round the corner when he caught up with her and swung her gently but firmly by the elbow into the alleyway beside the old building. She wouldn't let him speak first.

"Let me make this perfectly clear to you," she growled. "Henry has no father. On his birth certificate, it's just me. You know why? Because it was just me there when he was born. And even if I had wanted to add his father to the birth certificate, which I by all means did not, I couldn't have because I didn't even know his full name."

"That doesn't mean he's not my kid!" Neal retorted.

"Yeah, it does actually!" Emma hurled at him. "Just like he wasn't my kid for the first ten years I gave him up, he had to grow up with Regina until he came and found me himself!"

"You gave him up for adoption?"

"I was eighteen," Emma said defensively, "and thanks to you and those damned watches, I still had two months left to serve. I knew I couldn't handle the responsibility, not alone, and I wasn't about to try and fail and let him grow up in the same system I did."

Neal was looking at her like he used to, with longing, and she found her own longing creeping back into her in the wake of his deep brown eyes.

"You're father has done everything he can to find you again, including ripping my family apart," Emma accused.

"You think I don't know what that's like?" Neal asked aggressively, years of pain filtering through his eyes. "You think I don't remember what it's like to grow up alone, separated from your parents? I was sleeping in that car too, Emma, when you found it, or have you forgotten. You're not the only one who got hurt in all of this."

Emma watched Neal's eyes, and she put her anger briefly aside as a small curiosity sprang up inside her. She had been too busy being angry to really wonder at why Gold had been looking for his son in the first place. How had the two been separated?

"I'm only going to ask you this once," Neal said, his voice both pleading and threatening at the same time. "And I want the truth. Is Henry my son?"

Their eyes locked for a long moment. Emma was literally and figuratively backed into a corner with nowhere to go. She tried to put a certain amount of defiant loathing in her voice as she responded, but in actuality it was just a relief to final get it out.

"Yes," she breathed.

Neal held her eye contact, and she held his, watching as the emotion of it reached into his eyes. Despite herself, she couldn't help but feel for a moment how much she had missed those eyes.

The two came together in perfect unison, stepping towards each other, each reaching for the other, until they collided passionately, pressing their lips together. Emma breathed heavily, pressing the weight of all the unspoken emotions she had been experiencing ever since the curse had broken into that kiss. Neal's hands ran through her hair and cupped the small of her back. The pair stumbled back against the alley wall, pressed up against the brick, their heated breath echoing in the alley.

"Hey!" a sharp cry pierced the dark night.

Emma and Neal broke apart to see a furious David standing at the opening to the alley, a flushed Snow behind him. Before anyone else could make so much as a move, David had lunged forward, a paternal instinct taking over, and rugby-tackled Neal to the ground.

"David!" both Emma and Snow shouted, rushing forward.

"You think you can mess with my daughter, think you can break her heart and not have me to answer to?" David was seething, but he didn't have time to get more than two slugs in before he was thrown back by some unseen force, pressed up against the wall as if some invisible hand were holding him by the throat.

"David!" Snow cried out again, rushing to him, though he remained suffocated despite her attempts to help him breathe. Emma looked up, and Neal turned from where he lay sprawled on the ground, lip bleeding, to see Gold on the other side of the alley, his hand outstretched.

"Just wait right there," he was snarling, his taught hand tensing and causing David to choke still further.

"Gold!" Emma exclaimed in a mixture of fear and furry.

"That was my son you were hitting," he hissed through gritted teeth. David twitched.

"Stop it!" Snow was crying.

"Papa, you promised you wouldn't!" Neal said, starting forward, but Gold was clearly in some kind of a rage and wouldn't hear anyone's words. He swept his son aside and continued forward, slowly and menacingly.

Emma looked from her choking father to her desperate mother to Neal having been swept back against the brick wall and something pulse inside her. She took a deep breath.

"Stop!" she said firmly, and from somewhere inside her she didn't know she emanated a strong pulse that through Mr. Gold backwards and broke his charm. David sank to the ground, choking and sputtering air back into his lungs while Snow bent to comfort him. Gold hit the ground harshly and slid a few feet before coming to a halt, now appearing more old and broken than Emma had ever known him.

Everyone froze and looked at Emma, a bit in awe, a bit fearful. Emma herself was trying not to appear fearful. She didn't like this thing about herself that she could not control.

"What the hell was that?" Neal asked, panting.

She cast Neal a sweeping glance before walking over and reaching down to help Snow lift a weak Charming to his feet.

"You two should go home," she said, then more pointedly to Snow, "take him home. I'll be right behind you."

Snow surveyed the frozen scene in the alley with skepticism before nodding her approval and tugging at Charming's arm. At first he did not make to follow her, cast a murderous look back at a panting Neal.

"David, I can handle it," she assured him. "Go."

David followed Mary Margaret begrudgingly, keeping his eyes on Neal until the two were far down the road and out of sight. Emma turned slowly to look at Mr. Gold, who had picked himself up off the ground and was leaning sorely on his cane once more.

"Go home, Gold," she said in a weary voice. "It's been a long night, we should all just…" she caught Neal's eye and paused a moment, "…go home."

Emma turned to leave she had only taken a few steps towards the end of the alley when she felt as if something like a lasso were wrapped around her waste and pulling her in the other direction.

"Not so fast, deary," Gold said. "You are going to tell me everything."

In a second flash of furry, Emma twisted and in some way she was able to sever the magical bond Gold had cast on her, turning sharply and piercing him with a raging stare.

"After everything you have done to me and my family, all so you could find him," Emma pointed at Neal, her voice low and murderous, "if you ever hurt any of them again, you will have me to answer to."

Gold's eyes flashed at the threat.

"I'd like to see you try that neat little trick again, deary," he snarled, pulling his hand back as Emma braced herself, unsure of what she could do, but prepared to make her best attempt nonetheless. But before anyone could make one move more, Neal stepped between them, facing his father.

"You're never going to change, are you?" he asked him, his voice raised in anger. "You're never going to stop using magic to get what you want. Just because one day somebody handed you a dagger and made you the dark one, and now it consumes you. And you'll never be able to let it go. You haven't changed at all, and you never will."

"Bae," Gold started, but Neal held out his hand to silence him.

"No, you know what, no. I'm done. I'm done with you." Neal stormed out of the alley way and out of sight. Emma watched him go, wondering if she should say something to make him stay but thinking better of it. She looked slowly back at Gold. He looked furious and devastated. That was not a good combination. Slowly he swiveled his eyes back to Emma, the only person still left in front of him.

"How much did you overhear?" Emma asked Gold.

"Enough," he answered simply through gritted teeth. The pair stared at each other for a moment. Then Emma turned to leave.

"Go home, Gold," she repeated, walking away.


End file.
